Second Time's The Charm
by LostAndLonging
Summary: 'It was supposed to have been a typical mission. Just a typical alien invasion on a typical day with the typical Avengers. Everything was typical- except the fact that Peter ended up buried under a building.' Peter ends up under a building- again. Chaos ensues.
1. Chapter 1

It was supposed to have been a typical mission. Just a typical alien invasion on a typical day with the typical Avengers. Everything was typical- except the fact that Peter ended up buried under a building.

It was eight months after the whole debacle with Vulture, bringing Peter into summer break. Tony had called him in on a few missions before that- just as a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, he'd said, nothing else- and so Peter had gradually been getting used to _working with the freaking Avengers._ Although Vision didn't really understand him and he felt like he sometimes unnerved Captain America with his fanboyishness, Peter had been getting along with the team better and better and really learning how to work with them.

So, it therefore came as no surprise when Happy texted him saying that there was an incoming alien spy regiment coming towards the earth, and was he in?

Boy, was he ever.

Which is how, twelve hours later, he was in Spain with an entire group of legendary superheroes, fighting a horde of aliens. It went pretty well at first; Peter had been training at the Avenger's new compound for the past few months after getting severely busted up one night while patrolling, so he was a lot better at using the various tech inside his suit, and a heck of a lot better at hand-to-hand combat. But, just as they were starting to break through the enemy's flank, trouble arose. The aliens, apparently not having expected to meet so much resistance, panicked and brought out the big guns.

Literally.

They brought out a cannon/gun thing the size of a fast-food restaurant, and fired it straight towards Peter.

Now, dodging the blast wasn't the problem. Peter was fast and agile and evaded it quite easily. The problem was with where the blast went once it passed him. It flew directly into a massive apartment complex (thankfully, one that had been evacuated beforehand) and ate a gaping crater into it- instantly. Then it all went downhill from there.

Peter turned around to look at what had happened once the huge boom sounded, and froze. The building was falling- towards _him._ Hundreds of tons of concrete, metal, and glass were coming straight for him.

Again.

Everything suddenly silenced except for the pounding in his ears matching his heartbeat- _thud thud thud thud thud thud,_ faster and faster every second. In his mind's eye, he could only replay what had happened with Vulture over and over again- the whistling of Vulture's wings, the cracking and tearing of the supporting columns, the massive boom that swallowed Peter whole in debris.

He stared up at the descending mass, frozen between past and present, unable to move. He remembered the nails jutting out of the rubble; the harsh, broken edges of the concrete; the water that had dripped down his mask and face and eyes. Would this be like that? Would this be worse? Would this, perhaps, bear a quick death this time?

Peter tore himself out of the past at the word _death._ No no no, he didn't want to die. He was only sixteen, after all. He was too young to die.

But the building kept falling, falling, falling, looming over him. He tried to run, to turn, but then his eyes caught on a single, breaking slab of concrete with large, rusty nails sticking out of it like pincushions.

 _Cold. So, so cold. So much cold. So much cold and so much pain. Cold and pain and pain and cold and-_

 _"I wanted you to be better."_

 _And then-_

 _"If you're nothing without the suit, you shouldn't be wearing it."_

 _And he'd gotten stuck under a roof, and he was dying, and he really was nothing after all, just like Mr. Stark had said. Nothingnothingnothing oh God this hurt-_

"MOVE, PETER!"

But he couldn't. He stared up at the broken glass shards showering down on him, the furniture crashing down with the floors and walls and ceilings and roof. All he saw was dark and cold and wet. All he remembered was the agony of his ribs fracturing under the pressure, the pain of his leg cracking, how they had both healed up well enough to be usable in a few minutes but had still _hurt._

"Peter, _move!"_

And then the building hit him.

It hurt, if possible, even more than before. The massive weight winded him instantly and he staggered back, but a slab of wood flooring pinned one leg, rendering him unable to move. Around him, concrete and glass and furniture splintered, his suit the only thing keeping the shards from cutting his face.

 _"PETER!"_

Rubble hit the ground all around him; he narrowly avoided a massive piece by twisting his body. The resultant pain in his leg was so high he almost wished he hadn't moved at all. Another piece of building came flying towards him, but this time he couldn't dodge and it landed on his chest, cracking something inside it. Through eyes dazed with pain, Peter watched as the rubble slowly settled and the dust cleared.

"Oh God," he muttered, trying not to panic. He was trapped by a building again. His leg was pinned. His chest was being crushed. The whole Vulture scene was happening all over again. "Oh God no no no no no I can't do this again I can't do this I can't I can't oh _God-"_ he cut himself off, desperately trying to control his breathing. _"Breathe,_ Parker," he ordered, wincing as the sharp edges of broken material pierced the suit and dug into his skin. "You got out of this before. You can do it again."

 _Think,_ he told himself. _What do I need to do?_ The answer was obvious: dig himself out of the rubble. He briefly wondered if, maybe, one of the Avengers would come- after all, hadn't someone been yelling his name? Had that just been his terror-filled imagination, or had that actually been real?

"Help," he called. "Guys, help, I'm stuck." But nothing happened. With his super-senses he could hear the sound of battle still going on. The Avengers wouldn't be helping him out of this one- and he doubted they'd even want to. After all, Tony had never brought up the fight with Vulture, not even once. Peter had figured it was Tony's way of saying, "Avengers don't need people to pull them out of buildings. And they sure as hell don't complain about it." Never mind that the entire reason he was trapped under this building in the first place was because he couldn't get thatscene out of his head.

It took almost a minute before he'd psyched himself up enough to try unearthing himself from the rubble. Peter breathed in as deeply as he could, raised his arms to the concrete piled on top of him, and shoved with all his strength. It took several seconds of monumental effort, but finally he managed to move it off his chest, letting it hit the ground with a thud.

"Now for my leg," he muttered. He'd been keeping up a half-mumbled, half internally thought monologue this entire time in order to keep himself motivated and calm. "One, two...three!" He groaned with the exertion, feeling sweat begin to build in his suit and his muscles begin to shake from the strain, but at last it moved. Peter pulled his leg out from under it and scooted backwards, completely exhausted.

He just sat there for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Finally, remembering his suit's AI, he said, "How badly am I injured, Karen?"

"Fractured right fifth rib, severe abdominal contusions, and fractured right tibia. The contusions are already beginning to heal, but you might not be able to put weight on your leg without pain for several hours, even if your healing factor continues to be this swift."

"What do you mean?"

"As you are currently in a state of fight-or-flight, your adrenal glands are producing epinephrine, which is contributing greatly to your already abnormally fast healing factor. Should this state continue, the fractures would be completely healed within the next few days."

"Wow, really? Cool!" He hadn't had any super bad injuries for quite a while, and although the ones he'd had had healed pretty quickly, he didn't remember any of them healing _this_ quickly. Maybe he was growing stronger. Maybe he was just more terrified than usual.

"Peter, it looks like the battle is over. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?"

"No- no that's definitely not necessary. I'll be fine."

"Peter, need I repeat the injuries you have sustained? Fractured right fifth rib, abdominal cont-"

"No, no, no, I get it, I _know_ what my injuries are. I just...I'm fine. I've had worse before and haven't called him. And you said they're healing quickly, right?"

"Yes."

"Great." Peter grabbed onto a piece of rubble- the same one that had almost crushed him- and pulled himself up to standing. Gingerly, he tested out his still-throbbing leg. It didn't hurt as bad as he'd thought it would, so he gradually eased more weight onto it until he was standing evenly on both legs. "This enhanced healing thing is _great!"_ It still hurt like crap, but he could stand and that was all that was necessary.

"Peter, Tony Stark is heading towards you, along with Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, and Steve Rogers. They are estimated to be here within the next minute."

"They're _what?"_ Now that the relief over not having died was over, panic was quick to set in. "Oh God, what are they gonna think when they see me like this? What if they think it's my fault for getting buried? I-I mean, I like just stood there, right? Like I just froze and then the thing _collapsed_ on me, and oh God I just got buried under a _building-"_

"You are showing elevated heart rate, increased cortisone levels, and rapid breathing. Are you all right, Peter?"

"Yeah I'm...I'm just fine. Just...fine." He took a deep breath. "How far away are they now?"

"Close enough to hear what you just said, and you do _not_ sound fine," came Tony's voice as he landed among the rubble and walked up to Peter, stepping out of his suit as he walked. As his mask came off, it revealed a face that was clearly unhappy.

"Oh, hey Mr. Stark! How's it going? How were the aliens, other than that big gun thing of course?"

"Cut the crap, kid. We all saw you go down in the rubble. I tried to get over here to help you out, but the alien bastards didn't give us any breathing space." By this point, Natasha, Steve, and Clint were running up. They stopped close behind Tony, all three of them looking varied degrees of concerned.

"Are you okay, kid?" Steve asked. "You looked like you went down pretty hard. Did you break anything?"

"Uh...yeah," he said, still a little awed to be talking to Captain freaking America. "But, um, nothing serious. In fact, they're already healing! Good as new, practically!"

"They?" Tony asked, crossing his arms. "As in you broke more than one thing?"

"How the hell did you get out by yourself if you had broken bones?" Clint asked, looking even more concerned. As the only Avenger to have kids, he was unofficially the dad Avenger.

"Yeah, I'll have to second that," Natasha said. "I definitely wasn't expecting you to get out of there on your own. I thought Cap was gonna have to pull you out. How are you feeling?"

Peter looked away awkwardly, feeling blood rise to his face. It was at times like these that he was really happy to have a suit with a mask. "Um, fine I guess. The fractures are apparently already healing, and anyway it's not like this is my first time being buried under a building."

"…I'm sorry, _what?"_


	2. Chapter 2

"...I'm sorry, _what?"_

Peter swallowed. Suddenly everything seemed much too bright, much too loud, and he knew he was hovering on the edge of a sensory overload even despite his suit. Tony was still staring at him with arms crossed and an expression that said he wasn't budging until Peter explained; Clint, like the dad he was, was staring at Peter in horror. Steve, who had run up just in time to hear the last few sentences, had on his best puppy-dog eyes, and even Natasha looked upset, or as upset as a super-spy could look: her lips were pressed into a thin line and one hand was slowly curling into a fist.

Peter didn't know if that fist was intended for him or for the buildings that had collapsed on him. He decided it might be better not to know.

"Um…" Wanda and Vision were wandering over now, and as Wanda's eyes connected with his own, her face crumpled. Peter didn't even have the time to get mad at the invasion of privacy, since Tony stepped closer to him and demanded again he tell them what the hell he'd just meant.

"Uh, I- well, that is to say I…um…when I, uh, when I went to fight that Vulture dude, um..."

Tony's gaze was rapidly darkening. Natasha's was as well, as was Clint's and- _shit_ Sam's there now too oh shit this was bad.

"So, I went to confront him in this abandoned warehouse, and I thought it was clear sailing when I saw him in there without his wings." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "Turns out, they can fly around without him, too. He called them in and they took out all the pillars in the building and…it…the roof caved in on me."

"Holy shit," Clint said. Steve opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it, as he looked just as shocked and horrified as Hawkeye. "Shit, kid," Clint continued, "You're- you're like, what, sixteen? Fifteen? You shouldn't have had to…"

In the dead silence after Clint trailed off, Natasha spoke up. "How'd you get out? Did someone come free you?"

"No. I…I got myself out."

"Explain." Tony's voice was flat and unequivocal.

"Well, I just sorta…" he mimed lifting a boulder. After receiving unimpressed looks from everyone surrounding him, he nervously ran a hand through his hair, or he would've if he hadn't been in his suit. Instead, it ended up just being an awkward brush of the top of his suit. "Um, I just kinda lifted the rubble off me myself?"

Clint let out an appreciative whistle. "Damn, how strong _are_ you? You said an entire roof caved in on you? And you _dead-lifted_ it off of you?"

Peter looked away. The sensory overload was starting to affect him, making everything much too loud. He could hear the Avengers' labored breathing, hear the police talking in the background, hear _everything oh God too loud too loud too loud._

"Yeah," he replied, but his voice was tiny. The dark lenses in his suit at least helped with the vision part of it, but everything still seemed far, far too bright. "Yeah, I did."

He closed his eyes to stop the additional stimulus, which was why he failed to see Tony's expression shutter with guilt and pain, or the concerned look Clint exchanged with Natasha, who for once actually looked concerned as well.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tony asked next. Any sound felt blaringly loud to Peter; Tony's raised voiced made him stagger back, hands over his ears.

"Too…loud…" he muttered, feeling panic and annoyance rise up inside him at the same time. Panic that it was happening _right now;_ annoyance that it was happening right _now._

"Hey, kid? Kid, you okay?" Tony's voice was quieter now, worried, but it still felt like a screwdriver slowly burying itself into his skull. Peter flinched.

"Sensory overload," he whispered, wincing as his voice reverberated around in his eardrums. "I get them sometimes after fights. Just need a minute."

"Kid-"

"Let him be." Another voice- Steve- came closer now. Peter heard the slight sound of Steve setting an arm on Tony's armor and pulling him back.

Once everything was quieter, Peter focused on breathing. He'd found out a few months before that focusing all his attention on one sound or motion or thing could make the overload dial back. After a few minutes of that, when the slight sounds of the Avengers shifting from one foot to the other didn't make him want to tear his hair out, he opened his eyes.

He cringed instinctively at the flood of light, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted. Then he took another deep breath.

"You good, kid?"

Peter nodded slowly. When it didn't make him feel nauseous, he nodded again. "Yeah, I'm good. Sorry about that. Um...what were we talking about, again?" When he looked around, he saw that Wanda, Vision, and Sam had wandered off, most likely to get their various injuries treated or to help with damage control. Although it only left Tony, Natasha, Clint, and Steve, all four of them looked varied degrees of concerned/pissed.

"We were talking about how a building fell on you and you neglected to tell me that it happened," Tony said very calmly.

"Right. Um, well, you'd taken my suit and, I dunno, I just..." out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha and Clint exchange glances, nod, and walk away. Steve followed shortly after. _Great,_ he thought, _now I'm all alone with Mr. Stark._ "I wanted to prove that I was Spider-Man, suit or no suit. That I was _something_ without it. And I...I thought you knew."

"You did?" Tony asked incredulously. "How would I have known about that? It's not like I go around taking precious time off work just to watch your baby monitor. Didn't you ever think that maybe the reason we never talked about it was because I didn't know?"

Peter gulped. "I...I just thought you didn't want to talk about it. I thought it was part of the test to become an Avenger."

"You thought _what?"_

Peter looked away. The longer he talked, the more ridiculous he felt. He was now kinda glad the rest of the Avengers had moved away. "I thought...you know, you guys are superheroes and stuff. I figured that almost getting killed was normal, and- and you were thinking that if I couldn't handle it, then I-I didn't deserve the suit or something. And I-I know I-"

"Wait, hold on." Tony held his hands out to stop him. "Let me get this straight. You thought I knew about you almost _dying_ and never talked about it because I thought you should be unaffected by it? Peter, I know I'm an asshole, but do you really think I'm that much of one?"

"I don't think you're an asshole at all, Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled. "I just...I didn't want to disappoint you, o-or bother you or anything. I know how much of a trouble I've already been, and I-"

"Wrong! You do realize I'm the one who recruited you for this in the first place, right? It's my job to make sure the stupid stuff you do isn't going to end up killing you. But while we're on this subject, why didn't you at least tell me about your injuries? You crashed in a plane after that. You could've been seriously injured by that, so why didn't you call me?"

Peter blinked. "Mr. Stark, you'd taken my suit. I didn't have a way of contacting you." He refrained from saying, _and still don't._ Peter still had to go through Happy whenever he was without his suit and wanted to contact Tony.

"You could've texted Happy!"

"You mean the same guy who'd been systematically ignoring me for months? The same guy who hung up on Ned when I was trying to take down Vulture?"

Tony frowned. For a moment Peter thought he saw guilt flash across his face. "Okay, I'll admit, maybe we were a little hard on you back then-"

"He ignored me for _months,"_ Peter said quietly. Now that he was actually saying it, it felt great to let it all out. "You didn't even care enough about me to give me your own number. And Happy just let me text him day after day, and maybe I was annoying, I get that, but couldn't he have at least texted back _once?"_ his voice cracked at the end, and he silently cursed himself.

"So..." Peter's voice wavered. "So there, Mr. Stark," he finally finished lamely.

Tony just stared at him for a long, long moment. He looked saddened, almost. Saddened and guilty. "Tony," he finally said. "Don't call me Mr. Stark. It makes me feel old."

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Peter's throat, but he swallowed it down. Out of all the things Mr. Stark could've addressed, he'd picked that? Peter put a hand over his mask and sighed. He tried to be forgiving, but sometimes it was difficult. This was one of those times. How was he supposed to be okay with the fact that his hero and idol had consistently ignored him for months, had punished him and made him feel worthless- and yeah, it had all turned out okay in the end, but the feelings were still there- had then pushed Peter away the one time he'd tried to confide in him about his nightmares a couple months ago?

"Peter, I-I'm...could you take off your mask? I want to be able to see your face when I'm talking to you."

Although he was tempted to roll his eyes and say _yes, dad,_ Peter figured that the conversation had already gone badly enough and didn't need to get any worse. He nodded obediently and tugged off his mask, blinking at the bright sunlight.

"Peter, I-I said I'd try to do better than what my dad did for me. And- and honestly, he didn't do much in the whole sharing and caring department. But, kid, this goes both ways. You need to communicate, too."

Peter barked out a short, incredulous laugh. "Are you seriously kidding me right now? _I_ need to communicate? I'm not the one who brushed me off when I tried to get advice on how to handle nightmares! I've been trying to communicate with you for months, and you're the one who keeps-"

"No, nuh-uh, that's not how you get to spin it. Yeah, I admit I was a bit...curt with you that night-"

"Curt?! You told me-"

"Shut it! I'm trying to talk here." Peter scowled. "Look, Peter. I know I'm not the best at...talking, and heart-to-hearts because honestly they make my anxiety go through the _roof-"_

"You have anxiety?"

"-I said shut it!"Tony glared. "Anyway, whenever I try to ask you how you're doing you're the one who brushes me off with some bullshit excuse. You still go behind my back, whether it's to hide an injury or something else, and...and honestly, kid, it's just not working."

Peter stared at him in horror. He could remember all too well the last time Tony had said those words to him. "No, no Mr. Stark I didn't- I'm sorry about the building, I know I froze but I got myself out of it, see? And I- I've been real good, I swear I haven't let any innocent peopl-"

"Wait, wait, shhh, calm down, I'm not taking your suit." Tony ran a hand over his face and sighed. "I was talking about this." Tony motioned between them. "Us. Our...relationship."

"Our...relationship," Peter repeated, then grinned. "We have a relationship now? I have a relationship with Iron Man?"

"Kid, please. You need to start telling me when something serious happens- because I know bad things have happened to you, you just haven't told me. Peter, what if something serious happened one day and you didn't tell anyone?"

"Mr. Stark, you can hardly expect me to contact you every time I break something or whatever. That's just..."

"That's exactly what I expect you to do. Here, you know what, I'm gonna give you my number. Karen, record my number and keep it on record for him to put in his phone later."

"Got it, boss."

"Mr. Stark-"

A sigh. _"Tony,_ kid, how many times do I have to tell you? Look. You call or text that number whenever you get something bad enough you wouldn't want your Aunt May to see it. Capiche? And I...I promise I'll try to do better."

"Mr..." Tony glared at him. "Tony-" God it felt weird to address him that way- "why are you doing this? I mean, don't you have better things to do than sit around babysitting a sixteen-year-old?"

"Well, yes, the amount of work I've gotten behind in from spending time worrying about you is colossal, but if I don't make sure you're safe, who will? Huh?" Tony stared straight into Peter's eyes, mouth set in a thin line. "Don't try to tell me your friend Ned will, because we both know you play off your injuries around him, and he's not pushy enough to make you talk. Don't tell me May will, either, because you do everything in your power not to worry her."

"But that's literally two people," Peter said. "What about-"

Tony gave him a look. "You're telling me more than two people know about you being Spider-Man? Discounting us, of course."

"Well...no- actually, MJ might for all I know, she's insanely perceptive- but I haven't told anyone else."

Tony sighed. "Exactly. So who do you think is gonna make sure you're safe and not about to die from whatever stupid stuff you do on a day-to-day basis?"

"Mr- Tony, I don't need a babysitter."

Tony made a sound like a beeper when you got a question wrong. "Anddd you're wrong. Guess again." He paused. When Peter didn't volunteer anyone, he pointed to himself and said, "Me. I'm the one that job falls on. I've told you before that if you die, that's on me, and I have enough on my conscience already, Peter. Please, just...come to me if you need help. I don't care what it's for. If you break something, call me. If your nightmares are bothering you, call me. No, no, don't talk-" Peter had opened his mouth to say something after that last sentence, but closed it- "I know I pushed you away when you tried to come to me. I'm not gonna make excuses, cause that was a shitty thing to do. Just...I'm open now. If you need to talk to someone, call me. I'm generally gonna be there, unless I'm in the middle of a meeting, in which case I'd be very glad to skip it cause those things are boring as _shit."_

Peter stared at Tony for a long time like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then, finally, he nodded slowly. A grin began to spread across his face. "So what you're telling me is I can call you up whenever I want? Oh man, Ned is gonna be _so_ jealous when he hears about this!"

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself-"

"'Iron Man's like my new best buddy, Ned. Sorry, but you're out. I have a freaking _Avenger_ as a best friend!'"

"I never said anything about being friends-"

"Dude, this is amazing! Hey, hey Karen do you have his number? Like are you _sure_ you have his number? Like, really really sure? Like-"

"Kid, calm down. You're gonna give me a heart attack. Weak heart and all that." Then, astoundingly, Tony smiled. "I'm glad you're still a huge fan of me, though. I was afraid you'd ditched me for Cap."

"Naw, Cap has nothing on you." Peter gave him a brilliant grin. "He's great and all, but he doesn't even know how to work a smartphone. Every time I try to talk about electronics or engineering or whatever, I get these really confused looks." There was a short silence. Peter shifted his weight onto his uninjured leg. "Um...Tony? I...thank you. For..." he couldn't quite get it out.

Tony's soft smile was still there. It softened his entire expression, making him look years younger and much less stressed. "Of course, kid. Anytime."

Peter smiled back and tentatively stepped forward, arms outreached. Tony met him halfway, wrapping his arms tightly around Peter. The tight hug made Peter's rib ache, but Tony's warmth and comfort seemed to make it all fade away. Peter buried his head into Tony's shoulder and just stayed there for a long moment, breathing deeply. He smelled of sweat and metal and coffee, and for the first time since Peter had almost died, he felt safe.

Tony, unsurprisingly, was the first to pull back, but he intently studied Peter as the boy reluctantly tore himself away as well. "Well, Peter, let's get you back to the jet and get those injuries checked out, okay?"

Peter nodded. The horrors of not even an hour ago were still fresh in his mind, but Tony slung a comforting arm around his shoulder, and Peter found a small but genuine smile creep onto his lips.

Having Iron Man in his corner was a pretty good deal, after all.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, this basically concludes the scene/arc. I know some of you wanted me to continue on after this chapter, but I kinda feel like it has a nice ending here. I could, however, turn this into a series of loosely connected oneshots with a focus on Peter/Tony or Peter/Avengers team bc I know we're all suckers for reading about Peter and the Avengers as a family. Or I could just start an entirely separate oneshot collection, but me with my procrastination issues might never get around to posting it (once it's posted, I kinda feel like I HAVE to finish it, which motivates me lol).

What do y'all think?


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